How Our Marriage Crisis Brought Us Closer

The day Laura Munson's husband threatened to walk out on their 15-year marriage could have been one of the darkest of Laura's life. Instead, the crisis drew out a strength in her she never knew she had.

When Laura Munson's husband told her one otherwise ordinary summer day that he wasn't sure he loved her anymore, she didn't lash out or fall to pieces. She was shocked and deeply worried, but remarkably, she remained calm. She had a strong feeling that, whatever was going on with him, it actually had little to do with their marriage. And so, after her husband's devastating pronouncement, Laura responded simply, "I don't buy it." And she stayed firmly committed to their relationship, even when she wasn't sure he would be able to do the same.

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Laura captured the turmoil of this time in an essay for The New York Times's Modern Love column last August that quickly became one of the paper's most emailed articles. I remember reading the essay and marveling at Laura's calm, her Gandhi-like reaction, the temerity to be able to stand there smiling when you've been slapped in the face. I would have slapped back. Or would I? I was fascinated.

Laura has since expanded the essay into a memoir that's being published this month. This Is Not the Story You Think It Is... A Season of Unlikely Happiness is an exploration of marriage and commitment, of fleeing versus staying put. Laura considers midlife, and crossroads, and how much we are willing to endure when our "for better or worse" relationship starts feeling a whole lot worse.

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Reading her memoir was a chance for me to revisit a time when life threw a grenade into my own family's calm nest. In 2006, my husband, Bob, an anchorman for ABC News, was injured covering the Iraq war. He lay in a coma for five weeks, then battled for a year to recover. Although the challenges we faced were different, both Laura and I had to learn the same transformative lesson: how to surrender to things beyond our control.

Laura's instincts eventually proved correct; her husband worked out his crisis and returned home. But Laura also discovered that the truly joyful ending comes from choosing to love and nurture yourself as much as you do your significant other. Here, she shares more of the wisdom she found on her way to that "unlikely happiness.

When your husband seemed ready to end your marriage, was there a part of you that wanted to fight back?

I knew that approach wasn't going to get me anywhere. You can't convince somebody they still love you; that has to come from them. My gut told me he was in a personal crisis, and that our marriage wasn't really the issue. But he had to figure that out on his own. So instead of trying to persuade him, I chose to preserve my well-being. I entered a mode of creating. I did a lot of cooking and gardening and, since we live in Montana, a lot of hiking and horseback riding with my kids.

How were you able to respond that way? To turn the other cheek?

I'd had my own crisis a few years prior — after my father died and a big publishing deal of mine fell apart. I recognized the state my husband was in and that it stemmed from his unhappiness in his career. It's dangerous when we base our personal happiness on our career success; my husband and I both made that lethal choice at different times. I knew from my experience that he needed to find his way on his own. I couldn't fix the problem. I just had to get out of his way. Plus, I loved my husband fiercely. We'd built a life together for 20 years that we were proud of. You don't just break that up unless you really feel it's meant to be.

What did "getting out of his way" look like in your daily life?

He needed distance — which is a necessary part of every relationship, but sometimes we're so scared of it. My question to him was, "How can we give you the space you need without hurting our kids?" I would have loved for him to go on his own personal walkabout, but instead, he did a lot of local fishing and camping, which were activities that our kids understood and didn't make them feel abandoned. I thought it was important for our children to see that adults go through hard times too but it doesn't have to mean the worst.

I had a revelation, once Bob was back at work, that in the end I could really only count on myself. That realization was scary, but ultimately freeing. Was there a moment you felt that?

There's a scene in my book where I had to put on the Fourth of July fireworks display for my kids in my husband's absence. It was something I'd never done before, but I wanted to abide by our family tradition. Setting off those fireworks solo, acting like I'd done it all my life, reminded me of what I've learned in my work with horses: If you and your horse are alone in the woods, you have to deal with whatever comes — mountain lion, grizzly bear, your horse going lame. You have to gather all your strength.

Reading your book made me want to grab a cup of tea with you and share my own thoughts and fears. Did you have girlfriends with whom you could share the journey?

It's a good question. In many ways, I wrote the book to the reader as if to a dear friend. And I challenge us both not to take sides. I didn't think about things in black/white, us/them, right/wrong. And it was really important to me not to vilify my husband or play the victim. So I was careful to rely on friends who love him and our relationship.

Now that you two have made it to the other side, what did you learn from each other and about marriage?

I learned that there really is no such thing as happily ever after. Distance and breakdowns can happen, and they don't have to throw you into a state of panic. I learned that my husband and I are strong people, both together and as individuals. Even in the beginning, we never believed that we completed each other. But as time passes and you create a family, your two lives are melded — if not welded — together. And our union, to me, was a powerful force that was not something to be broken. I kept my belief in that when we went through this difficult time. But I also learned that through crisis, we can grow into our best selves.

How did this time change you?

That time in my life taught me a lot about how to trust my instincts and look at what I can control and what I need to let go of. I have found that there is tremendous power in patience. It really does define love. That doesn't mean we don't have standards — I had rules during that time about what I would and wouldn't tolerate. But my gut told me that it was really a time for patience.

Do you feel like your marriage is stronger than it was before?

In many ways our marriage is much better, because we've each climbed out of a hard personal time on our own with a patient partner. Marriage is so much about ebb and flow, passing the ball in the good and hard times. We no longer believe we are golden, or that our happiness can be defined by our career success. Our relationship is very real now and very equal. No pedestals to fall from.

What advice would you give today to couples getting married?

Be clear about who you are as an individual — and aware of your needs within the union. There is a road map of "us," but it's only as good as the road map of "me."